Page 59 of Her Wild Coast Promise

“Quit blaming yourself. Peyton didn’t give you a choice. Any idea what she intended by cutting him loose?”

“Other than to bust my balls? No.”

“It makes no sense. There had to be something in it for her besides that.”

“I doubt we’ll know now.”

We round the corner. Crime scene tape encloses the immediate area around the motel room. The crime scene rig is parked between the room and the lobby, bookended by my SUV and Hunter’s. The coroner’s van is also here—confirming that Vander is dead. Our Public Information Officer, a young cop named Stanford, is keeping a news van at bay.

“How the hell did Channel Six get here so fast?” Hunter asks.

There’s no need for an answer. We part ways at my rig. After one last look at Vander’s motel room door and the flash of the tech’s camera filling the darkness, I climb in and head for the exit.

Only when I have my back to the scene do I remember my meeting with Cora. With a heavy sigh, I accelerate onto the road.

Back at the station, I enter through the back door. For what feels like the hundredth time since Chief Kauffman left, I beeline for his office only to remember he’s not here.

The weight of responsibility is crushing my shoulders.

Another murder. One I could have prevented.

Anger fizzles under my skin. I clench my fist. Punching the wall might make me feel better for five seconds, but then I’d have a hole to fix. Plus an outburst like that would seriously hamper my leadership capacities.

To my surprise, Cora is in Chief Kauffman’s office.

“What are you doing?” I demand.

Cora stands from the box she was packing, a feisty glare in her eyes.

Before she can answer, Kayla Kauffman greets me from the hallway, dressed in jeans and a thick wool sweater, her hair tousled by the wind.

“Hello, Seth. Cora was kind enough to help me in here.”

“Is the chief okay?” I ask her.

She gives a dismissive wave. “It’s the Army vs. Navy game today. It was a good time for me to slip away.”

That she’sslipped awaycarries meaning. She doesn’t want him to come back here, not even to pack up his things. It’s smart given his fragile state, but it just serves as a reminder of how alone I am in this fight.

“I’ve got the rest,” Kayla says to Cora. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Cora replies, handing her the box at her feet.

“You’ll talk to Seth about Thanksgiving?” Kayla says to her, then shoots me a keen gaze.

With both of their eyes on me like this, I feel exposed, and I don’t like it. Cora tilts her head, as if savoring this moment. “Count us in,” she replies.

“Good. Looking forward to it,” Kayla says, slipping past me with the box of picture frames in her arms.

I step into the room. Without the chief’s personal touch, it feels empty, and spare. There’s nothing special about this office. It’s not particularly big. There’s no window. Just a narrow box containing a filing cabinet, desk, and a chair. The idea of making it mine, of transforming it into the command center of this department, with me in that chair, feels especially daunting right now.

But the thought of Peyton filling it instead makes my gut burn.

“Sorry I’m late,” I say.

“Are you okay?” she replies. Her tone is brisk, but the question invites a level of intimacy that is hard to ignore. Or maybe I’m overthinking it.

“Fine.”

---